


In the Shelter of Their Wings

by newtypeshadow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Wings, Bruce Banner Is Not That Kind Of Doctor, Cabin Fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Everybody knows, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hand Feeding, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mother Hen Bucky Barnes, Mother Hen Steve Rogers, Multi, Oblivious Tony Stark, Polyamory, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark's Bambi Eyes, Witch Tony Stark, injured Tony Stark, kind of, mostly comfort, post-serum Bucky Barnes, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow
Summary: Outside, Tony's mind commands the storm protecting their cabin. Inside, boyfriends Bucky and Steve take care of Tony's body.It's notTony'sfault that care requires cuddling.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 44
Kudos: 584
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Kisses Bingo, Stuckony server spooky bingo





	In the Shelter of Their Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wiggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiggle/gifts).



> This is a semi-surprise giftfic for [Wiggle](/users/Wiggle), because she's amazing! ♥ I wanted to write something for her [Stuckony Summer Stocking](/collections/stuckony_summer_stocking_2020), but ran out of time. Luckily, all the stockings are still up! *cackles maniacally*
> 
> Because I walk the Path of Most Resistance, I combined a bunch of prompts to write this. They are…
> 
>   * Wiggle's wishlist: Wingfic + forced proximity (magical accidents binding them together, snowed in in a cabin, cave in etc.) + hand feeding
>   * Spooky Season Stuckony Server Bingo square N3: Witch Tony
>   * Fantasy Bingo square: Witch/Wizard
>   * Bucky Barnes Bingo square K2: Poison
>   * Kisses Bingo square N2: cheek kisses
> 

> 
> Wiggle, I hope you enjoy the fic! Everyone else, I hope you do, too!

Outside the cramped cabin, Tony's witch-storm rages. Mountain snow batters the safe-house, frigid wind moans and shrieks, and the corpse powder Tony wove into the localized magical storm means any Hydra flier strong enough to reach the cabin will arrive poisoned, drastically weakened, and ten minutes of accelerated heartbeat away from the poison reaching their heart and turning them into a shambling, flightless corpse Steve and Bucky can easily dispatch without disrupting Tony's concentration.

As ever when Tony's spell-casting, Steve is their first line of defense, standing sentinel between the bed and the exits should anyone burst through the door or shuttered windows. Bucky is the one in charge of caring for Tony. The witch's body is always so vulnerable when working big magic like the storm outside, the vast majority of his considerable mind occupied with shepherding the frenzied force of nature that he's unleashed to keep them safe.

Tony is slumped on the cabin's single bed, his brilliant red and gold wings curled around himself and drooping with fatigue. His normally ruddy face is pale, pinched with pain and exertion, and damp with the cold sweat that so often accompanies extended use of powerful magic.

Tony's not shivering yet, but it's only a matter of time. Bucky wants to pull Tony into his lap and enfold him in his giant black and silver wings, then have Steve curl around them both and do the same with his even larger wings, the deep blue a curtain lined with pristine white that will block out the world and the enemies that are likely circling the storm, hoping to find a way through Tony's substantial defenses.

Tony would let Bucky hold him, right now, distracted as he is. And he would let Steve wrap both his arms and wings around him, rather than startling and shying away. Tony would relish the contact, take comfort in it, and their presence and combined warmth would ease some of his tension, and make spell-casting easier. Tony's most honest about his desires when his mind is too engaged, or too fatigued, to spare a thought for insecurity. Bucky is sure Tony wants them both. He has to know Bucky wants that too. He just can't read Steve well enough to see that Steve craves it just as badly.

When Tony sways, then jerks back upright with a shudder, Bucky exchanges a worried glance with Steve.

Steve frowns at Tony, then crosses the room in two strides and adds more wood to the fire.

Bucky can't stop his own eyes from dipping to Tony's torso, as if he might see the bandage he applied when they reached the cabin hidden beneath Tony's lightly-armored shirt. Steve's shirt, actually; Tony's was torn and bloody enough that Bucky worried he'd bleed through the bandages without anyone noticing. There's no blood on Steve's shirt—yet?—but Bucky, like Steve, has been functionally immortal since tangling with the wrong witch several years ago, so he agonizes over Tony's every injury, worrying about his beloved witch in a way Tony himself never seems to, even with the direst of injuries. That Bucky and Steve know the ins and outs of field medicine so well now is entirely attributed to their fear for Tony's safety.

Not for the first time, Bucky wishes Tony healed like him and Steve. Although Zola cursed them with magically accelerated healing so he'd have two unkillable research subjects for his ruthless Hydra experiments, super-healing has proven beneficial in the years since Tony flew into that fortress, like a blazing hurricane of sunlight and red dawn, and freed them before reducing the place to rubble.

Spell-casting takes energy, so Bucky raids the meager kitchen cabinets. He finds an unopened bag of dried apricots and another of beef jerky. Good enough. There's canned food too, and Bucky and Steve need to eat as well, but right now, Tony needs food more and—unlike them—can't get it himself without relinquishing the storm and leaving the cabin vulnerable.

At least Bucky has an excuse to hold Tony now. Tony loves to be touched, thrives on affection, and seems especially delighted when the ones giving it are Bucky and Steve, but Steve is eternally awkward around people he has crushes on and rarely reaches out first. The end result is Bucky doting on Tony while Steve looks on with wistful satisfaction…until Tony notices Steve watching, startles, and guiltily ducks away with some comment assuring Steve that Tony's not trying to steal his boyfriend. He always misinterprets Steve's displeasure at his flight as annoyance that Tony encroached on their relationship.

As if Tony would do that to anyone.

As if they don't both wish he would.

But it's different, out in the field. When they're on missions, and Tony's doing spellwork, he never looks guilty when he comes back to himself to find Bucky's arms around him under Steve's watchful eyes. He'll stay where he is and let himself be touched, cared for, pampered, if he thinks they're just repaying him for protecting them, just helping a teammate so the mission won't fail. The quiet conversations and tired, contented cuddling Bucky and Steve are treated to in the hour or so after Tony's done big magic are some of Bucky's most cherished memories. He doesn't like that Tony is so exhausted and weakened, of course, but he'll freely admit he loves the outcome. It's only when there's no readily available reason for Bucky's affection and Steve's attentive gaze, aside from the pleasure of it, that Tony thinks he needs excuses to take what he wants—to take what they've both been trying to offer.

As Bucky returns to the bed, he extends a wing to caress Steve's as he passes. A smug, possessive warmth surges through his chest at the striking image of his black wing against Steve's vibrant blue, and again when Steve's shoulders relax, just a little, and he ducks his head and turns his chin to hide a sappy smile. It puts an answering smile on Bucky's face, but his pleasure is dulled by worry when he reaches Tony.

It seems he's returned just in time to watch the shivers start. He strokes gentle fingers down Tony's neck to get his attention, then nudges lightly. "Lean forward, doll."

When Tony absently complies, bending over his crossed legs, Bucky slips behind him to lean against the wall. "I'm here," he says, quiet but firm. "I've got you, Tony. Ease up for me, okay?" As he speaks, he carefully massages up and out from where Tony's wings join his muscular back, kneading the protective wall Tony's formed around himself until it comes down entirely.

It never fails to fill Bucky with fragile awe, this unconscious show of trust: Tony knows if Bucky is with him, Bucky will be the wall that keeps him safe.

Tony curls his wings over his lap instead, a brilliant red blanket with gold feathers neatly tucked under his thighs.

That's when Bucky tugs Tony to lie back against his chest and wraps an arm and both wings around him—though he keeps the wing facing Steve low enough that Steve can see for himself that they're okay, and Bucky can catch Steve's eye if he needs to without shifting enough to distract Tony.

"Eat this," Bucky murmurs, touching an apricot to Tony's parted lips. Tony complies in the same distracted fashion as before, chewing and swallowing mechanically. Bucky wordlessly offers another.

The shivering stops fairly quickly, for which Bucky is grateful. More gradual is the way Tony's body relaxes against his, but eventually, Tony's head tips back to rest against Bucky's shoulder. And slowly, Tony's labored breathing and rabbiting heartbeat slow and even out into more meditative rhythms. Color returns to his cheeks. He turns his head into Bucky's neck and refuses more food. And finally, with Bucky's body heat and insulating wings wrapped around him while the fire floods the cabin with heat, Tony's skin warms from freezing to a healthy enough temperature that Bucky thinks they're out of the woods.

He cradles Tony's head and presses his face into Tony's hair, takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe in Tony's scent while relief washes through him. Tony's going to be fine—energetically speaking, at least. And by now Natasha and Sam will have tracked them down and be on their way with help and a doctor for Tony's side—although Bruce will probably insist, once again, that he's "not that kind of doctor."

The bed dips, and familiar fingers card through Bucky's hair.

Bucky smiles and lowers his wing in wordless encouragement, then turns his head just enough to take in Steve's quiet concern.

Instead of continuing the soothing caress, however, Steve holds a water bottle to Bucky's mouth, and then to Tony's—with Bucky's help steadying him—until they've drunk most of it. "Tell me when you want more," he says softly. He rests his back against the wall and leans into Bucky's side, winds an arm around him, and rests a gentle hand in the crook of Tony's elbow, where it's in no danger of grazing Tony's injury. Then he stretches out one magnificent wing—the only one he can extend, in their position—and suddenly they're cuddling in the shadow of Steve's great blue wing, a bulwark protecting them from a hostile world.

An hour later, the remainder of the apricots, jerky, and water have been consumed, and Bucky decides enough time has passed for their cavalry to arrive. He coaxes Tony to release the storm, and he does with a furrowed brow and a long, exhausted sigh.

After Bucky raises his wing to shield Tony's face again, Steve drops his and rises to assess the danger. When he opens the door, however, he stops, then throws it wide enough for Bucky to see over his shoulder that the team's magic-and-metalwood ship is coming in for a landing.

Bucky and Steve exchange relieved grins. Nevertheless, Steve plants himself staunchly at the threshold and flares his wings to hide Bucky and Tony from view through both the doorway and windows. Bucky knows he won't move, won't leave, until Tony and Bucky are with him—not even to jog out and greet and fill in the rest of the team; Tony's still vulnerable, and Bucky will need both hands to either half- or fully carry him back to the ship. Tony will be back to his vivacious, loquacious self in an hour or so, but until then, Bucky and Steve won't leave his side—and Tony won't want them to.

Bucky lowers his wings. "Ride's here," he tells the adorably muddled creature in his arms. "C'mon, Tony. Time to get up." Privately, Bucky hopes Tony stays put and lets Bucky carry him back to the ship. The desire isn't entirely selfish—walking might irritate the wound in Tony's side.

To Bucky's unvoiced amusement, Tony wrinkles his nose, scrunches his closed eyes tighter, and hides his face in Bucky's neck. Although Steve's blocking the windows and most of the door, his and Bucky's wings are no longer hovering over Tony's head to block out the bright sunlight reflected tenfold by the snow. Tony's always a little sensitive to light after bouts of intense magical focus, the same way a sleeper is sensitive to it even if their eyes remain closed. It is, in fact, one of the reasons they shelter Tony with their wings when he's doing spellwork: Tony is hyperconscious of movement and changes in lighting, so practicing magic in the unmoving shadow of wings—his own or someone else's—blocks out those unpredictable distractions and helps him focus.

Bucky huffs a fond laugh at Tony's petulance, eases out from under him enough to get an arm under his legs, and picks Tony up as he stands to follow Steve to the door.

Tony grumbles at the movement and bats at Bucky's chest with all the strength of a wet noodle. Then he immediately subsides—as if the protest, once lodged, requires no further action on his part.

"I know you can walk," Bucky assures him, though he in fact knows no such thing—not this soon after big magic. "But if you do, your side's gonna open up, and then you'll be stuck with Bruce poking at it and bandaging you up on the way home when you could've been helping me catcall Steve for walking around in his undershirt."

Tony's lips twitch in a small, sleepy grin. He raises a hand and grips a strap on Bucky's shirt, which is answer enough.

"That thing looks painted on," Bucky continues salaciously. "Look, you can see his back muscles move when his wings twitch."

Steve's ears pink. He twists his head to glare at Bucky, but it only shows off said back muscles as he shifts.

The blushing is adorable, but has the added bonus of making Tony titter and wolf whistle—he's opened his eyes, as Bucky hoped he would.

Steve's ears get a little redder, but he's grinning at Tony when he says, "I give you the shirt off my back, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Mmmhmm," Tony hums.

"I'm feeling objectified right now."

" _Always_ objectified," Tony says, speech a little slow and slurry, but returning faster as he settles back into his body.

"See, Steve? I'm not the only one," Bucky gloats.

"We have eyes," Tony agrees gleefully.

Steve rolls his own at them. "Think you can handle the glare?" he asks Tony, motioning at the wide, bright world outside.

"Fuck that," Tony mutters, and re-buries his head in Bucky's neck, releasing Bucky's shirt to further cover his face.

Bucky and Steve snicker at him, though Bucky does his best to limit his movement so he doesn't jostle Tony.

Tony makes them laugh again when he points imperiously at the door and says, "Onward, noble steed," then re-covers his grinning face.

God, Bucky wants to kiss him when he's like this, all muzzy and cute and happy. But he doesn't. Instead, he raises an eyebrow at Steve. "The king has spoken."

"I didn't vote for him," Steve snarks, prompting a bark of laughter from Tony. But he dutifully folds his wings and steps out into the snow, with Bucky and Tony at his heels.

Although cold slithered around them in the doorway, Steve was blocking the worst of it. Now, stepping outside, a wall of cold slams into Bucky the moment he exits the cozy cabin. The sky is clear and blue, the sun sinking toward the fir tree-lined horizon, and the mountain air is brisk. Tony will have dissipated the corpse powder with the storm, so Bucky doesn't hesitate to take a deep breath. No matter where he goes, or how high he flies, nothing feels as clean and crisp in his lungs as mountain air. The snow has finished settling, and luckily isn't deep enough to get past Bucky's tall, sturdy boots—though with the way it looked from inside the cabin, Bucky wouldn't have been surprised if the drifts came up to his thighs. Within the storm's radius, dead Hydra goons lie half-buried in the snow, skin grayed by the corpse poison they succumbed to while the stormy winds Tony wielded like weapons battered and broke their wings. Outside the storm's radius, two more goons lie sprawled on top of the snow, two arrows with familiar fletching protruding from their backs.

Bucky shields Tony's face from the glare with a wing, then finds himself in shadow for a moment as well. He looks up to find Sam, then Clint and Thor, coasting overhead, surveying the area in long, deceptively lazy-looking glides. When Sam catches his eye and waves, Bucky grins and twitches his free wing to wave back.

"Took you long enough," Natasha says when they reach the ship. Bucky and Steve's—maybe _slightly_ overprotective—routine with Tony after extreme magical exertion is well-known to the team by now, so no one came to the cabin while Steve barred the doorway, and when Bucky strides onto the ship, no one reaches for Tony or tries to remove him from Bucky's arms.

"Is Tony hurt?" Bruce asks instead, sliding his glasses on but not approaching. He doesn't bother asking whether Steve or Bucky is injured; their insane healing speed means they're never hurt long enough to reach a doctor.

Bucky retracts the wing hovering over Tony, while Steve's mouth twists. "Tony got stabbed," Steve says.

" _Grazed_. Shallow." Tony insists, face still buried in Bucky's neck, though he stops hiding his eyes with his hand to point accusingly at Steve. When he lowers it, he raises a drooping wing to cover his torso—as if that would ever stop Steve from getting him medical attention. Beneath his wing, his hand returns to fiddle idly with Bucky's shirt strap rather than resume shielding his eyes; the ship isn't as glaringly bright as the sunshine on all that snow. "'N Bucky fixed it," Tony adds, cracking his eyes open in a squinty glare.

"He's not a doctor."

"I'm fine."

Bruce heads off the inevitable argument with a gentle, "Can you show me, please?"

Tony was only semi-conscious while Bucky bandaged him up, and doesn't seem inclined to remove his hand from Bucky's shirt, so it's Steve who carefully lifts Tony's hem to reveal the still-pristine bandage.

After squinting at it, Tony mutters, "No blood, no doctor," and drops his head back on Bucky's shoulder.

"We'll see," Bruce says with a studious frown. Under Steve's formidable glower, he gingerly lifts the bandage to check the wound. "Hm." He seals it back against Tony's skin. "I don't think you need _immediate_ medical attention," he admits. "This time."

Steve makes the funny face he does when he's both relieved and displeased about the same thing. Bucky has earned that expression often, having known Steve all their lives—but for all that, Tony is swiftly catching up.

"Does Mr. No Doctor need painkillers?" Bruce asks.

Tony looks like he's going to say no, but Bucky notes that the tightness around his eyes isn't entirely due to light levels, and remembers how he tensed when Steve lifted his shirt. "Painkillers would be great," he tells Bruce.

"I'm fine," Tony insists.

"You're always fine," Bucky grumbles.

"You need to see a doctor," says Steve.

Tony points at Bruce, who immediately raises his hands in a "keep me out of it" gesture. "I'm not a medical doctor," Bruce says.

When waving the denial aside fails to persuade Steve, Tony grudgingly accedes. "Fine. Helen, then."

"Dr. Cho is the right kind of doctor. I can't do more to treat you than you've already done here, anyway, except for the painkillers. I'll bring you some and let her know you'll need her when we land."

Steve doesn't look pleased by the delay but seems to know he's lost this battle, because he huffs and motions for Bucky to sit down, leaves, and returns with a battery of protein shakes and a blueberry smoothie from the brand Tony likes and keeps stocked in the small galley.

By the time Sam, Clint, and Thor return, Natasha has the ship ready for liftoff, Bucky and Steve have ensconced themselves on a corner bench with a slightly-drugged Tony on their laps, and Bruce has spoken to Helen—and then Jim, to assure him that Tony is well on his way to normal despite the magnitude of witch-storm he created: one strong enough to wind up on the military's radar, and strange enough that they called Jim for a remote assessment.

Steve tries to slip away to his locker while Tony and Bucky are distracted greeting their friends, but Tony immediately protests when Steve removes his legs from his lap, and asks, "Why is Steve leaving?" in a plaintive voice that makes Steve's pretty back stiffen and wings shift in agitation—much like Tony's have begun to—and Steve himself return immediately to soothe Tony, who reaches for his hand.

Steve takes it, of course, and leans close when Tony tugs. "I'm not leaving, Tony. Just getting a shirt."

"You're wearing a shirt," Tony whines, all innocence Bucky doesn't believe, bless his lecherous heart, and maybe a little loopy from the painkillers.

"It's an undershirt, as you two so helpfully pointed out," Steve says wryly. "I'll change and be back in less than a minute."

Tony's face falls. "Bucky said I can sit with you and get undershirt, or I have to sit with Bruce and let him poke me."

Although he knows exactly what liberties Tony took with that sleepy paraphrase, Bucky still can't help how his arms tighten automatically around their clever little witch. Steve is no better; he squeezes Tony's hand and gets that stubborn, possessive look on his face. It takes Bucky a moment to realize Tony means Bruce will check his wound—at which point he smothers a grin at how swiftly Tony has twisted Steve around his little finger. To be fair, it's easier to read between the lines when Tony isn't turning those big brown eyes on _him_. Bucky considers himself strong-willed, but for certain people—Steve and Tony—he's a happily overindulgent pushover.

Steve looks down at his own chest, every muscle perfectly defined by the tight, paper-thin cloth of his undershirt, then looks back at Tony's pleading face, and Bucky's matching one, and sighs. "If that's what he said," Steve says, shaking his head and shooting an annoyed glare at Bucky before sitting back down, lifting Tony's legs back into his lap, and scooting close enough to press tightly to Bucky's side.

"It's what I said," Bucky lies. "Sorry, babe."

Steve doesn't look like he believes Bucky is in any way sorry, which is fine because Bucky is in _no_ way sorry. He rakes his eyes over Steve's shoulders and corded arms, then catches Steve's clear blue eyes and slowly licks his lips. When Steve's cheeks pink, Bucky buries his grin in Tony's hair, then audibly kisses the top of his head. "Good job, Tony."

At first, Tony looks pleased as punch by this. Then—though it takes a few seconds longer than when he's entirely sober—Tony's eyes widen, and he tenses with a panicked look at Steve.

Bucky sends Steve a Look over Tony's head: _Don't freeze. Fix this._

Steve flounders.

Bucky forces a laugh and rests his head against Tony's. "Jealous?"

Steve cocks his head and looks at Tony. After a few fraught seconds, he returns his gaze to Bucky. "Yes."

Bucky is going to _murder him_.

He rubs Tony's rapidly tensing back, eyes the agitated fluttering of his wings, and thinks, _This is so bad_. It's hard to phase Tony so soon after he's done big magic, but his insecurity is far easier to trigger on certain painkillers. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Tony sucks in sharply. "Sorry," he begins, though he's done nothing to apologize for. His anxious eyes are locked on Steve. "I didn't mean to—"

Before he can finish, Steve _finally_ moves. He pulls his and Tony's linked hands to his lips and presses a tender kiss to each of Tony's knuckles, one after another, intense gaze never wavering from Tony's.

Tony's apologies stutter to a halt. So does the agitated fluttering of his wings.

Steve lowers their hands to rest on Bucky's hand that's lying on Tony's thigh.

Bucky takes the hint and twists his palm up to cup Tony's hand between theirs.

Steve smiles then, and it's beautiful and wide, unfettered adoration—with a side of shit-disturber, because it's Steve. He winks down at Tony's softly hopeful face, then looks back at Bucky. "I _was_ jealous," he informs Bucky, kissing his cheek. "But I fixed it."

Bucky sits there, stunned, before he squawks out a shocked, delighted laugh and sprawls contentedly against the backrest, steadying arm around Tony gentle enough to keep him close without aggravating his wound. "Oh, so you can be smooth when it's for _Tony_. I see how it is."

Steve leans back too, radiating sunlight and satisfaction. "You're already with me 'til the end of the line, Buck," he says. "We still need to get Tony on board."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic! If you did, kudos and comments are the best way to let me know. ^_^ ♥


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